"Ghosts, really?" He sounds so utterly, guilelessly interested that it's going to be a disappointment when it's proven to be a dark joke and not reality. He wouldn't put it past life to .. figure out how to generate ghosts, he's still pretty sure a hundred and fifty years on that Tessla's ghost had visited him when he was both small. "Ah well."

Just the lingering memories of people long gone, then. It didn't quite bother him as much as it once did; certainly it was sad, and he had plenty of painful memories attached, but wrenching grief was harder to generate these days.

But if it was appearing, in some other form, that was a live population. A live population could theoretically be evacuated. Could the world in the shape it was in, absorb its refugees? "....Sometimes, a bit. I have a pair of companions I'm keeping an eye out for, and they'd be drawn to such strangeness like flies to vinegar. And then meddle in everything."